"No dishonour, my liege; but your Majesty's cousin, the illustrious Duke of Orleans" –
"Ha!" exclaimed the King; but Des Comines proceeded without heeding the interruption.
" – Having conferred his affections on the young Countess Isabelle de Croye, the Duke expects your Majesty will, on your part, as he on his, yield your assent to the marriage, and unite with him in endowing the right noble couple with such an appanage, as, joined to the Countess's estates, may form a fit establishment for a child of France."
"Never, never!" said the King, bursting out into that emotion which he had of late suppressed with much difficulty, and striding about in a disordered haste, which formed the strongest contrast to the self-command which he usually exhibited, – "Never, never! – let them bring scissors, and shear my hair like that of the parish-fool, whom I have so richly resembled! let them bid the monastery or the grave yawn for me – let them bring redhot basins to sear my eyes – axe or aconite – whatever they will – but Orleans shall not break his plighted faith to my daughter, or marry another while she lives!"
"Your Majesty," said Des Comines, "ere you set your mind so keenly against what is proposed, will consider your own want of power to prevent it. Every wise man, when he sees a rock giving way, withdraws from the bootless attempt of preventing the fall."
"But a brave man," said Louis, "will at least find his grave beneath it. Des Comines, consider the great loss – the utter destruction, such a marriage will bring upon my kingdom. Recollect, I have but one feeble boy, and this Orleans is the next heir – consider that the church hath consented to his union with Joan, which unites so happily the interests of both branches of my family, – think on all this, and think too that this union has been the favourite scheme of my whole life – that I have schemed for it, fought for it, watched for it, prayed for it, – and sinned for it. Philip des Comines, I will not forego it! Think, man, think! – pity me in this extremity – thy quick brain can speedily find some substitute for this sacrifice – some ram to be offered up instead of that project which is dear to me as the Patriarch's only son was to him. Philip, pity me! – you, at least, should know, that to men of judgment and foresight, the destruction of the scheme on which they have long dwelt, and for which they have long toiled, is more inexpressibly bitter than the transient grief of ordinary men, whose pursuits are but the gratification of some temporary passion – you, who know how to sympathize with the deeper, the more genuine distress of baffled prudence and disappointed sagacity, – will you not feel for me?"
"My Lord and King!" replied Des Comines, "I do sympathize with your distress, in so far as duty to my master" –
"Do not mention him!" said Louis, acting, or at least appearing to act, under an irresistible and headlong impulse, which withdrew the usual guard which he maintained over his language – "Charles of Burgundy is unworthy of your attachment. He who can insult and strike his counsellors – he who can distinguish the wisest and most faithful among them, by the opprobrious name of Booted-Head!" –
The wisdom of Philip des Comines did not prevent his having a high sense of personal consequence; and he was so much struck with the words which the King uttered, as it were, in the career of a passion which overleaped ceremony, that he could only reply by repetition of the words "Booted-Head! It is impossible that my master the Duke could have so termed the servant who has been at his side since he could mount a palfrey – and that too before a foreign monarch? – it is impossible!"
Louis instantly saw the impression he had made, and avoiding alike a tone of condolence, which might have seemed insulting, and one of sympathy, which might have savoured of affectation, he said, with simplicity, and at the same time with dignity, "My misfortunes make me forget my courtesy, else I had not spoken to you of what it must be unpleasant for you to hear. But you have in reply taxed me with having uttered impossibilities – this touches my honour; yet I must submit to the charge, if I tell you not the circumstances which the Duke, laughing until his eyes ran over, assigned for the origin of that opprobrious name, which I will not offend your ears by repeating. Thus, then, it chanced. You, Sir Philip Des Comines, were at a hunting-match with the Duke of Burgundy, your master; and when he alighted after the chase, he required your services in drawing off his boots. Reading in your looks, perhaps, some natural resentment of this disparaging treatment, he ordered you to sit down in turn, and rendered you the same office he had just received from you. But offended at your understanding him literally, he no sooner plucked one of your boots off, than he brutally beat it about your head till the blood flowed, exclaiming against the insolence of a subject, who had the presumption to accept of such a service at the hand of his Sovereign; and hence he, or his privileged fool Le Glorieux, is in the current habit of distinguishing you by the absurd and ridiculous name of Têtebottè, which makes one of the Duke's most ordinary subjects of pleasantry."[54]